I Like My Breakfast Moaning
by AngelKayohisura
Summary: Maka tries to make breakfast.  Soul takes advantage.  Smut/lime ensues.


**Title: I Like My Breakfast Moaning**

**Author: AngelKayohisura**

**Date: 12/22/10**

**Chapters: 1 (Oneshot)**

**Rating: M**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater or the characters from it. I also don't make any money from writing this.**

**oooooooooo**

The light from the television screen made eerie shadows and lights play across Maka's still features. The bright figures on the screen were dimly reflected in her eyes, and her mouth was parted in a little "o". But despite the almost glassy, monotonous expression, Maka's face clearly radiated complete and utter fascination.

As the program drew to a close, the protagonist of this—apparently—most gripping epic cheerily waved goodbye to the audience.

And Maka exploded into action.

"SOUUULLLLL!"

The words ricocheted off the painted walls, moving slower than the meister that burst into Soul's room with a bang.

Soul sat straight up—jerked from sleep by the crash of his door against the wall—and immediately collapsed backwards onto the bed as a soft, fluffy cotton monster tackled him with such force that the air whooshed out of his lungs.

By now, Soul's crimson eyes bulged in panic as he scrabbled furiously, fighting to find enough purchase on the beast's hide to fling it off of him. His natural reflexes to partially transform lay dormant. The thing was simply too fluffy, albeit large, to warrant such a bloody attack.

"Maka!" he bellowed, as he finally lifted the marauding fiend off of him enough to breathe. "We're—"

His cries to alert Maka of the attack died on his lips as he realized that the thing he was holding slightly above him was none other than his meister herself.

Uncharacteristically, she simply pouted with large, watery eyes.

"Soooulllll," she whined quietly, although whether it was in protest of her current position, because of his treatment of her, or for another mysterious reason was unknown.

Soul's eye developed a tic as he tried to process the sudden influx of new information so soon after waking up—if one could call that heart pounding, nerve wracking experience as something as innocuous as waking up.

He hastily took note of several glaring facts. There was no soft and fluffy monster. His meister was in his bed, clad in her striped yellow and green cotton pajamas. His once closed door was now hanging askew from its hinges. He had been startled awake. It was still early.

Soul attempted to reason through these many facts logically when immediate comprehension of the situation evaded him.

**Was there any reason for her to be **_**in **_**his bed****?**

_No._

**Was there any reason for her to be pouting?**

Soul had been fast asleep and was confident he had woken up from the sound of the door being flung open. As such, while there might be some reason for the pouting, it wasn't his fault and that was all that mattered. Therefore—_no_.

**Was there any reason for his door to be mistreated so harshly?**

_Maybe. But probably not_.

**Was there any reason for him to be awake at—judging by the light from the window—at 7 a.m. on a Saturday morning?**

Barring life-threatening emergencies, that was a resounding _no_.

All of this was so completely outside of the norm that Soul wondered if maybe he was still dreaming. Or, perhaps, they really were under attack—this could be an improperly designed Maka clone, Blair disguised as Maka, or maybe Maka herself had finally snapped from all that studying.

In any case, Soul Eater Evans had no fucking idea what was going on.

He fought the urge to shake…_it_…by the lapels of its pajama top.

"Soul." Maka moued with the biggest, most yearning eyes she could muster. "You have to help me!"

Soul gently lowered Maka from the position his strong arms had somewhat raised her **and **subsequently ignored the almost provocative way she was straddling his upper abdominal region.

The creature sounded like Maka and gave off the same kind of wavelengths a desperate Maka emitted, so perhaps it was Maka. If it walks like a duck, talks like a duck…it's a duck right?

Soul lifted one eyebrow in response, encouraging her to continue.

"You have to help me cook breakfast!" she chirped.

Soul's immediate reactions were to shove Maka to the floor, turn so that his back was turned to her, and wrap his blanket so tightly around him that he resembled a burrito with bits of white hair for lettuce pooling out the top.

"Soullll," Maka whined as she sat unfazed on the floor. "I saw it on the Death Food Channel! There was this huge—"

As she rambled on with animation coloring her every word, Soul could feel her waving her arms around in frantic gestures as she tried to convey some complex food monstrosity that had apparently captured her hamster spun brain. Soul squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to return to the blissful land of dreams, but her damn nonstop chatter was making it impossible.

Soul bared his teeth in an ugly frown and refrained from the urge to chomp on his blankets

He whipped around, covers flying, and stabbed an accusing fingers in her direction.

Soul let his thoughts flood out in one long breath. "What's up with you today, huh? Breaking my door down, waking me up, _WANTING_ to cook something? Are you PMSing? One minute you're all pitiful and the next you're all cheery, and now you won't shut up!"

By the end of his rant, his chest was heaving and his angry face was rather ruined by his comical sleep-styled hair. All the hair was matted on one side of his head while the rest was skewed at an even odder angle than usual. A clump near his forehead was even sticking straight out, parallel with the ground.

Maka had grown quiet during his outburst, but, in the silence that followed, she stood and clenched her fists.

"See if I try to share my aspiration with you again," she yelled as she threw his covers over his face and then immediately stomped out of the room.

Soul fell back on his bed with a sigh.

They had had an early dinner the previous night. Maybe she was suffering from going too long without eating or something. Soul just couldn't fathom why she was acting so weird.

He snorted, deciding it was a waste of time to think about right now, and went back to sleep.

**oooooooooo**

Maka was literally elbow deep in batter trying to fish out the short wooden spoon that had fallen into the sticky goop. Her tongue stuck out in an adorable way as she tried to get the darn thing, and she made a squicked out face when her fingers finally closed around it and batter gushed out between her fingers.

She stared at the offending piece of kitchen equipment with aggravation. At this point, she could use her hands to stir the rest of the ingredients into the bowl. It wouldn't really matter seeing how so much of the batter clung to her skin and the fine hairs of her arm—almost all the way up to her elbow—that, as a result, her arm didn't look any different than the spoon.

With a grunt of annoyance Maka threw the wooden utensil into the sink. If she continued using it, then she would have to keep fishing it out. It was just too much of a pain.

Maka poured in the last of the flour from the container she had filled with the exact amount needed. At the beginning of this adventure, when everything had still been neat and organized, Maka had taken the time to measure and separate out all her ingredients prior to the actual cooking process.

"Stupid Soul," she grumbled under her breath. She would show him she didn't need help to make her complicated breakfast! And he wouldn't get to eat any of it, either.

**oooooooooo**

At the sight that met his crimson eyes, Soul's mouth dropped open in sheer disbelief.

The once immaculate kitchen—Maka's handiwork—had been transformed into a culinary battle field. Dishes caked in batter and in mysterious mixtures were haphazardly stacked in the sink. Said tottering towers swayed precariously and threatened to dash into pieces on the tile below. The table resembled a Pollock piece that had swapped batter, milk, and utensils for paint. Even the stove was adorned with a cluster of pots bubbling and steaming with fat slothful bubbles of, of—Soul had no idea what that dark brown viscous mass in the one or the thin parchment yellow of the other were—_something_ streaming down two of said pots. Discarded ingredients, tins, crockery full of enigmatic concoctions, and abandoned utensils littered almost every surface.

The burners hissed as liquid fried, Maka was making strange plopping noises as she vigorously stirred by hand whatever was in her bowl, and the sound of the water streaming onto the floor from an overturned container were all unwelcome sounds completing the chaos.

Maka clearly hadn't taken any notice of him yet, apparently too absorbed in whatever she was doing. Her back faced him, but even from here Soul could see that her once clean pajamas were littered with stains of varying degree—dark, dried blotches matted the once fluffy cotton, wet patches of varying sizes dotted the fabric like spots on a Dalmatian, and loose flour dusted everything else.

Soul came out of his daze and gingerly stepped into the kitchen—only to have his whole body twitch in revulsion.

Cold, slimy chicken albumen and yolk oozed upwards between his toes. Soul had unknowingly stepped on a partially cracked egg, and the remains were now underneath his foot.

Soul shuddered again. The feeling was absolutely disgusting.

Maka turned her head at the quiet cracking noise, and she couldn't help but giggle at the horrified and repulsed look Soul wore.

"Maka, what are you doing?"

"Making my breakfast!" Maka replied with her tongue sticking out. "And you can't have any!" She turned back to her creation.

Again, Soul twitched. This wasn't happening. This whole morning had to have been a dream. Things were just so crazy!

"Making what?" Soul questioned in a dangerously level voice.

"I don't know," she responded.

Soul was incredulous.

"What?"

The word was short and flat.

Maka huffed, a little embarrassed actually. She had never caught what the dishes were supposed to be called, and she had apparently missed other vital details because two hours later, she didn't have a scrumptious meal to show for it. Actually, she didn't have anything to show for it except a ruined kitchen.

Maka grit her teeth in determination. She would figure it out!

Abruptly Maka found herself staring at the floor as her pigtails hung upside down. "Soul! What are you doing?" She beat her batter clad fists against his back to no avail.

Soul harrumphed as he continued to haul his meister to the bathroom over his shoulder. "I could ask you the same question! All you did was make a mess! I ain't gonna help you clean it up neither!"

"It is said, 'I ain't gonna help you clean it up _either_,'" Maka corrected primly.

Soul rolled his eyes.

'_Damn _bookworm,' he thought.

He slung her into the bathtub, and, before Maka could wobble to her feet, a shock of icy water drenched her. She shivered, immediately irritated. She would kill Soul at this rate.

Maka tried to get _out_, grabbing onto Soul's shirt as he backed away, but she only succeeded in pulling him into the bathtub. Kind of.

Soul grunted as the wind was knocked out of him for the second time that day. He had landed half sprawled across Maka with his lower stomach impaled by the lip of the tub and half outside the tub as his legs flailed in the air.

And to top it all off, now he was fucking freezing. Stupid tiny tits just had to torment him all over the place and in so many ways today.

Annoyed, he tried to push himself up by using Maka as leverage.

And in doing so, he inadvertently but perfectly cupped one of Maka's breasts.

That was the last straw.

"MAKA CHOP!"

The abrupt attack caught Soul completely unaware, and it made him slip even more, bashing his face into her drawn up knees. Now fully in the tub with Maka, they were a disorganized array of tangled limbs. Furthermore, they were completely soaked through with lukewarm water on the verge of being warm, and their clothes clung to them in an uncomfortable, sticking manner.

Soul held up a hand to his bleeding nose.

'_God her knees are so bony! …Her tits are much more plush,'_ Soul thought to himself as he stared at the crimson liquid dripping onto his fingers. It quickly became a watery pink, though, as the shower sluiced it down the drain.

"Maka CHOP."

Soul clutched his head and moaned. Now he had a headache to boot.

"What now?" he demanded.

"You got a nosebleed after touching me!" Maka accused with rosy cheeks.

"I'm bleeding 'cause of your _knees_, idiot," Soul fired back.

"Eh? My knees?" Maka responded uncomprehendingly.

"Yeah! From you smashing my face into them!"

"Oh," was all Maka had to sheepishly say.

Soul sat there, still clutching his head, and muttered to himself, "Who would get a nosebleed from groping your tiny tits anyway? I couldn't even feel anything under my hand."

"MAKA CHOP!"

Soul now lay comatose on the bathtub floor.

Maka sniffled.

'_Stupid Soul!'_

That's not what he had said the other day as his hands had skimmed under her pajama shirt. She hadn't been wearing a bra that night, and Soul had been very_ appreciative _of what his fingers had found.

Completely miserable, Maka sniffled more. She could feel small tears pooling in her eyes, and she let her head hang down with the water washing over her.

Her breakfast had failed. Her plans of rubbing her awesome breakfast and cooking skills in Soul's face had failed. The kitchen was a complete disaster zone. She was in the bathtub, awkwardly scrunched up in a narrow space with Soul, still in her pajamas and absolutely drenched.

At least by now the water was hot.

**oooooooooo**

It was only a few seconds before Soul blearily opened his eyes. It was probably Maka standing up—unceremoniously shoving any part of him holding her down to the floor—that woke him.

Soul grabbed her leg and hauled himself to his feet. Now he had her arm, and Maka stared at him with exasperation. Flecks of water clung to her face, and her pigtails drooped limply and stuck to her skin. Her eyes flashed as her mouth settled into a thin, displeased line. She was obviously waiting for him to speak.

Soul's lips unconsciously stretched into a smirk. This wet, maddened Maka was sexy. Her clothes hugged to her in ways that left nothing to the imagination and emphasized every curve she possessed, no matter how slight. More importantly, the way they hung so closely made him want to peel them off of her, piece by piece.

The sight was so entrancing that Soul didn't even mind the scratchy and ill fitting way his own clothes laid on his skin.

Maka didn't like the predatory, mischievous turn his expression had adopted. He hadn't said anything yet. He was just staring at her…like she was _delectable_ or something. Maka had to hold in the urge to shiver, because the way he was looking at her was most certainly reminded her of two days ago, before he had leant in and kissed her fiercely—

His lips crashed onto hers, and her thoughts immediately derailed. He had hijacked her mind, and all she could think was Soul, Soul, _Soul_—

Maka turned bright red when she realized that she was really moaning his name over and over into his mouth instead of thinking it.

Soul chuckled lowly and slid his hand into the hair at the base of her neck. Gently but firmly, he tugged her head back until she was looking up at him slightly. "Say it again," he murmured quietly into her neck, nuzzling her.

"No!" Maka tried to refuse, but it came out more as a breathy moan as Soul nibbled on her shoulder.

His fingers began to skim under her shirt, lightly stroking her belly.

His blood was surging from hearing her moan his name—by the Lord Shinigami, it was a turn on, and desire was pooling in his lower abdomen. He was half hard already and quickly hardening even further as he thought of all the naughty things he wanted to do to a naked, wet Maka. The feel of her soft skin under his lips and teeth only made him yearn for it more.

Today she tasted like caramel…and condensed milk? He wasn't sure, but caramel was probably the sticky dark brown stuff bubbling on the stove and perhaps condensed milk was the other. As his lips and tongue traveled the smooth column of her throat, Soul could also faintly taste what he surmised was the batter as it tasted a little like pancakes. He licked behind her ear and revised his opinion. Perhaps she had been making biscuits? Regardless, the sweetness, almost like candy, that coated most of the skin he had had the pleasure to feast on so far, was a yummy change of pace from her usual minty taste.

Not that Soul minded the mint flavor. It was just sometimes off-putting to feel like you were sucking on toothpaste.

"You know I didn't really mean it," he murmured, drawing back to gaze into her emerald eyes. From the stiffness of her body he knew she was holding back because of earlier, but he wanted her to know that he didn't mean to insult her.

Maka gave him the tiniest of nods. She wasn't sure if he was apologizing for implying that he doesn't find her arousing or for refusing to indulge her that morning—or both—but she forgave him, regardless. She knew Soul didn't have a bad bone in his body when it came to her.

Her blush was back full force as Soul suddenly pulled her close to him until they were pressed together from knee to shoulder.

Well…he did have one bad bone when it came to her. Although it was technically neither a bone nor bad, other phrases that could be used to describe it were just too mortifying to even think about, much less to feel pressed against her thigh.

Soul's fingers skimmed her back, and she unwillingly relaxed. It simply felt so nice, and Soul was nibbling behind her ear…down her throat…unbuttoning her pajama top swiftly and kissing her collarbone.

Maka jerked back into alertness at this thought. Soul had completely opened her top, and now she was exposed, and he could see her, and—

Soul was amused to see that her blushes extended all the way down to the tops of her petite breasts.

He mused on her insecurities—probably caused from his incessant teasing of her chest. But since those days of "tiny tits," she had filled out somewhat. She didn't have the largest rack, but at least she now fit into a B size cup even if it was just barely.

Soul could honestly care less. He wasn't interesting in dating Maka's boobs.

He pressed a reassuring, "Shh," against her skin. His fingers quickly pushed the garment off her shoulders, and it fell with a wet plop onto the enamel of the bathtub. Those same fingers immediately sought out her tits, longing to squeeze and fondle them. He made sure to keep his eyes closed and his mouth on Maka's neck lest she balk even more. Unfortunately for Soul, Maka was already too freaked out to allow him to have his way so easily.

She crossed her arms in an attempt to protect himself from his prying touches.

Soul rolled his eyes even though—or, perhaps, because—she couldn't see him do so.

It wasn't as if they hadn't done this before, although never in the shower, nor as if Maka never ended up begging him for more, so Soul didn't understand while she was still so skittish.

Well, it didn't matter because Soul intended to break that nervousness today. He was determined for her to realize just how beautiful she was—and how much he wanted to worship her.

Soul sank his jagged teeth into the junction of where neck meets shoulder, and Maka stiffened before going limp in his arms. Her head lolled back as Soul continued to suck and bite that spot, and while she managed to keep her arms firmly in front of her chest, she was unable to stop the shivers traveling down her spine.

Maka felt like a switch had just been flipped off in her brain as the urge to fight him suddenly disappeared. Soul sucking right there made electric tingles zip through her body. Said tingles suddenly made her aware of parts of her body she normally never felt. Like the tips of her nipples that were now firm and peaky. Or what she could only assume was her clit as it was in that general area…pulsing and begging for some of Soul's sweet attention. Even her toes felt like curling, and it was mind boggling to her that Soul could evoke these kinds of feelings with just one bite.

Soul relaxed his embrace of her in favor of sliding his hands slowly and firmly down her back. He could feel her muscles under her smooth skin and the way she was relaxed and pliable like cookie dough in his hands.

With a smirk he let go of her neck with a little pop and plunged his hands past the waistband of her pajama bottoms.

Maka squeaked from the sudden intrusion and actually threw herself forward into Soul more in an attempt to escape from his hands.

Soul laughed lowly next to Maka's ear as he firmly grasped each cheek of her derriere in each hand and began to squeeze. Denied her chest, this was definitely the next best thing to focus his attentions on. Maka's ass was shapely and firm from all the fighting and training they did, and Soul had been teased by it for too many years from under her customary plaid skirt. How many times had he had to resist the urge to pin her down and just molest those long, sexy legs and cute butt?

Even now, he wanted to sink to his knees and start biting and kissing that sexy ass.

He stopped kneading her just long enough to lightly rake his nails from her thighs to her lower back.

Maka let out a little gasp.

Soul laughed again, and Maka felt the last of her protests die with the sound of Soul's husky voice proclaiming in such a _promising_ voice, "Let me worship you, Maka."

Maka looked into those crimson eyes with yet another matching blush and fell further under his spell. Soul's eyes were glowing, and they swore to show her just what to do about all the _want_ in her.

Not that Maka was stupid. She had read and heard all about foreplay and procreation, but she conceded to herself that actually experiencing and _knowing_ those acts was completely different.

For example, how did people manage to not pass out from the sheer intensity of these situations?

"O-okay," she stammered out.

Soul had touched her before, but never for too long and never so forwardly before. And she had let her hands roam around, too, but she had never gone into his pants. And they had had many hot, kissing sessions, but she was beginning to see that these things paled to things that they _could_ be doing.

Soul pressed soft kisses to Maka's forehead and down the bridge of her nose to her mouth. He had seen the dazed look in her eyes and was taking some pity on her by slowing things down a bit.

Maka opened her eyes and blinked furiously when both Soul's body and mouth suddenly left hers.

Her mouth dropped open just slightly, and she tried to swallow but her throat was too parched.

Soul had removed his shirt and was swiftly shucking his pants. Both items were tossed out onto the tile floor, and Maka was left staring at her completely naked weapon.

She had seen him, more or less, naked before, but a turned on, dripping wet, confidently smirking Soul was another thing altogether.

Now she ached deep in her lower belly.

Her eyes were glued to his thick, proud length jutting up from a nest of white curls.

Suddenly it was hard to breathe, and Maka's pupils just kept getting wider and wider until her eyes were as wide as saucers.

His hard on didn't really resemble a banana, and she thought that the book she had read, illustrating how put on a condom with a banana as a prop, had somehow sought to personally insult Soul. Since, really, it wasn't anything like a banana, even if she could technically see the resemblance. Because fruit didn't make her all hot and bothered. Not that Soul's, er, banana did.

Soul tried not to snicker at her completely embarrassed and awed expression.

He turned away from her and broke the spell.

Maka could breathe a little better now, and she was quickly debating whether she wanted to make a mad dash for it and run away. This was just so much, so quickly, that she didn't know if she could handle it.

Before she could decide, Soul abruptly grabbed one of her arms and began soaping it up.

Maka blankly stared at his hands sliding up and down.

Soul ignored this and began to wash her other arm.

Maka still didn't comprehend the sudden change in events.

Where was the molesting?

He removed the last pieces of her clothing, but made no move act upon the revealed skin.

Soul gently prodded her until she turned around obediently and let him wash her back. He paused just shy of her ass, though, as he decided he would be too tempted to make his touches erotic.

Soul grinned widely as he continued to lather her body with soap, and he saw Maka's face turn as red as a tomato. He had kept count, and this made for blush number six today. It was definitely a new record.

Even though his scrubbing was almost clinical, as if he were simply washing the dishes, the feel of his fingers gliding across her skin with that soapy slickness made Maka hot in places Soul hadn't even touched yet. But that she wanted him to touch. Now. Please.

Soul snickered, and Maka almost died from sheer humiliation. She felt like her head was going to explode from all the blood rushing to it, and she tried to hide her face in her hands. Soul caught her wrists and stopped her. She hadn't realized she had said that out loud.

Soul pulled her flush against his body, his heart clenching with a feeling a finger's breadth away from being pain at feeling her naked, wet body pressed against him. His chest was firmly molded to her back. Her bottom was nestled so tantalizingly against his groin. His hands roamed her smooth, flat belly.

He chuckled.

"Where do you want me to touch?" he teased. The question was punctuated by a long slow lick along the outer shell of her ear.

"Here?" he prodded as he cupped her small breasts in his hands, quickly skimming his fingers across her nipples. Slowly and gently he kneaded the globes in his hands, and it made him pant in her ear.

Finally he was touching her in ways that he had only dreamed and fantasized about, and it felt so much fucking better than he had imagined.

And Maka was enjoying it far more than he had even dared hope for.

His hands roamed down her body, and Maka hyperventilated. Whether from the thick steam or Soul's fingers—surely it was the steam, right?—it was so hard to breathe.

Water was everywhere. His fingers on her skin were rougher than she remembered, and they didn't glide as smoothly as she would have liked. All in all, the rational part of her still functioning decided that the water made his touches less pleasurable. However, that rational part of her mind conceded to the happily moaning part that just because they were less pleasurable than before didn't mean that they weren't fucking fantastic regardless.

"Or here?"

His fingers ghosted over her mound, and she jumped with a squeak. She was so embarrassed; thank Lord Shinigami Soul couldn't see her face—or _it_. And Maka could feel his hardness pressed against her, too, and it felt so good but was so _naughty_ that she just wasn't sure what to do about it.

She had never dreamed it would be so silky or so firm, or that it would be pressed against her backside while they showered. Or that it would feel so natural.

Or was the better word for it not "natural" but "right"?

Soul started to rub her tummy in a very calming motion. Maka sighed as they once again returned to, sort of, familiar territory. He had this uncharacteringly sweet gesture that he liked to do sometimes, and it was to rub her tummy. When asked why, Soul had been unable to explain and had just shrugged.

Not that Maka was complaining. She had never known, but it felt quite good! Making her all relaxed and calm—

—And susceptible to surprise attacks.

She yelped as Soul began to delicately roll one nipple between his fingers.

"Ahhh," she moaned as her head fell back against his shoulder. She turned her face away from him though, both so he wouldn't see the faces she was making as well as to stop all the water from entering her open mouth.

She was hot, and she wished he would pinch her nipples more aggressively because it almost felt like he was just teasing her further. But more than anything, she _ached_. She could feel how messy and wet she was down there, and if Soul didn't get a move on and start touching her, her—_unmentionables_, she was going to put his fingers there herself. The situation was strangely reminiscent of her predicament with the bowl of batter earlier this morning.

The ache flared at the thought of Soul plunging his fingers in her the way she had plunged her hand into the bowl. And if they started swirling—

Soul just chuckled again and took his hands away. He stepped back as much as he could in the small shower space and patted her butt lightly.

Maka's hands immediately flew to cover her behind, but inside she pouted, severely disappointed.

Soul's voice was full of mirth as he said, "All clean. Time for you to get out."

Maka turned around, incensed that he was going to make her this horny and needy for him but not really going to do anything about it.

"What?" she protested. "You're just going to leave me like this?"

Soul flashed his pointy teeth at her in another one of his wide grins.

He grasped her waist firmly with one hand and pulled her back to him. His cock lewdly rubbed against her belly with the motion. His other hand cupped her face as he asked her huskily, letting his raw desire bleed through, "Why shouldn't I? Unless you want me to make you _cum_, Maka? Are you going to let me _look_ at and _touch _your **pussy**?"

Maka was hyperventilating again at his dark, velvety tone and straightforward, lewd words. And with the way he drawled the word "pussy," she was going to spontaneously combust.

"Are you going to let me have my wicked, wicked way with you? I want to sink my cock into you until you scream."

Soul released her and laughed as she immediately fled the shower. She bolted for her room, grabbing a fluffy blue towel as she dashed by, and he heard her door slam behind her.

Soul continued laughing as he began to soap himself up. He had known that hearing it said out loud would make Maka take off. Even if she didn't think so, Soul knew she wasn't ready yet. She was still too gunshy to commit to sex.

His soapy fingers strayed down to his cock and languidly began to stroke.

In his opinion, today was still a success. He had gotten to molest Maka in so many new ways, and little by little, he thought he was making herself more comfortable with her body and the more physical parts of their relationship.

Soul held back his groans as he panted. He leaned forward, bracing himself against the wall.

With everything that had happened, he wasn't going to last even a minute.

And he had so much new material to fantasize about in the near future, that he thought less than a minute was going to be his new time for a while.

**oooooooooo**

Soul found Maka hiding under all her blankets. A telltale light shone through the layers of fabric.

'_Reading again,_' he predicted.

**Typical Maka.**

**oooooooooo**

Maka jumped as her weapon suddenly infiltrated her blankets and threw an arm over her back. She had been lying on her stomach reading a book, and, consequently, she had been so absorbed she hadn't heard him approach.

"Soul!" she squeaked.

"Ngth," he replied as he curled up next to her, closing his eyes. It was cozy in here, Maka was wamn, he was comfortable, and he was tired. If she wanted to read, that was fine by him, because he fully intended on sleeping—right here next to her.

Maka held still and tried to return to her book. All she managed to do was read the same paragraph over and over. Soul's lying next to her in her bed made her hyperaware of him—and hyperaware of every part of her body that touched him. A deep red blush stained her cheeks, and Maka fought to stay still and just focus on the book.

Maybe if she didn't move, then she could pretend like this wasn't happen and therefore, that there wasn't anything happening right now that she didn't know how to deal with.

Because there wasn't. She was reading, and Soul was sleeping. Nothing strange or weird about that. No siree.

Unluckily for Maka, her stomach grumbling ruined her hastily constructed plan of action as it interrupted Soul falling asleep.

With a sigh, Soul pulled out a breakfast bar he had stashed in his pocket before coming to her room and dropped it on her head.

Clearly deciding his duty was done, he snuggled even closer to her, his arm wrapped tightly around her waist and his nose pressed into her shoulder blade, and promptly fell asleep.

Maka unwrapped the proffered meal and munched thoughtfully. Soul was so sweet sometimes, in a gruff kind of way. He had his own way of showing his affections for her, and even though it frustrated Maka sometimes—why in Death's name couldn't he wake up a little early so that they could make a fantastic breakfast together, for example—she knew he always went out of his way for her.

And in the end, while Maka hadn't gotten the breakfast she had wanted, she really couldn't say she minded.


End file.
